


Second Home

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-05
Updated: 2002-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-10 20:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11134281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Pre-Slash.  A trip filled with memories and realization for RayK.





	Second Home

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Second Home

## Second Home

by Elizabeth Mc

Disclaimer: Kowalski and Fraser belong to Alliance. The rest of the characters and the story are mine.

Author's Notes: Thank you to Julia for her insights and assistance. Thanks also to Anne Mallory of 5P's for her comments on a very early draft. This story is much improved due to their efforts.

Story Notes: This isn't really an AU, more of a possible past.

* * *

Ray Kowalski shut the engine down and leaned forward to peer through the windshield of his rented truck. Snow flitted serenely across his vision even as the glass began fogging over. A few hundred feet away, across the parking lot, across the street, the old gray church stood like a lighthouse beacon calling everyone out of the darkness. He shivered as the cold seeped in with the memories. 

Glancing behind him he spotted the old metal swing set, the kind they didn't make anymore with two swings hanging down from long, thick metal chains. He knew from experience that once you sat on the solid plastic seat and started pumping your legs then you could fly above the top bar and the chain would curl and there'd be a thump on the way down. He wondered if the metal frame would start to rock with you as you went faster and higher because it still wasn't secured to the ground well enough. 

All around the swing set and decorating the perimeter of the parking lot, snow was piled up from the work of the bulldozers. To an adult, it looked dirty and unsightly and every year they discussed what else they could do to keep the parking lot clear. But to a child, it was a fort, a hiding place in the midst of hurling snowballs, a place to lay while you laughed until your sides hurt. 

Ray smiled to himself while he remembered his best friend, Joe and all the hours they spent throwing themselves around those great mountains of frozen ice. 

He took a breath and climbed out of the cab of the truck. He straightened his suit and ran a hand over his hair. 

"Ray Kowalski?" 

Turning in the direction of the voice and squinting through the dark he found a slender shape approaching him with a smile. He didn't recognize her and immediately tried to place the unfamiliar woman. 

"Margie Blodgett," she said, holding out her hand. Ray's eyes widened as he held out his own. 

"Wow, Margie, you look great." 

"Well, you know, thirty pounds and no perm will do that for you. You look pretty darn good yourself." 

"Thanks," he said. 

"I heard about you and Stella. I'm so sorry things didn't work out." 

Ray shrugged. "It's been awhile now." 

Margie gave him the polite moment before she took his hand and started walking towards the church. 

"Are your parents here?" 

"Nah, they couldn't make it. My mom's been feeling bad for a few months now. And my dad didn't want to leave her." 

"Is it serious?" 

"I don't know. She thinks she's just getting old and it's taking longer to bounce back. She had a bad bout with the flu back in September." 

"Well, tell her I wish her the best. I always liked your folks." 

"I'll tell her." 

Ray didn't comment on what Margie wasn't saying. That it doesn't take three months to recover from the flu. That Ray's mother was probably really ill. That Ray's mother might not live to see next Christmas. He blinked back the sudden tears that brought and cursed himself for feeling so unstable. 

"Do you want to sit with me and my folks, Ray?" 

"I think I better stay at the front with my brother and his family. But thanks, Margie." 

They reached the threshold of the church. She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand just as Michael Kowalski met them. Beside Michael stood his new wife, Kelly, no, not Kelly...Sharon...her name was Sharon. For some reason Ray just wanted to call her Kelly. In Sharon's arms was their infant daughter, Barbie. 

Michael shook Ray's hand as Ray greeted them. Ray slipped off his glove and ran a light hand over Barbie's forehead smiling when she yawned. 

"The service is going to start in about ten minutes. Are you ready to go in?" Michael asked. 

"Yeah, I guess so. Did you get Father Hogan to do the service?" 

"No. Bill Hogan retired five years ago. The new guy is named John Matthews." 

Ray swallowed back his disappointment. 

He was jarred by another familiar voice. He turned around and found Joe Adams standing in front of him looking as uncomfortable in his suit as Ray felt in his. He was surprised when the much larger man gathered him up into a hug. 

"Ray," Joe said. 

"Hey Joe." 

His old friend set him down and gave him a thorough looking over then wrapped a big arm around Ray and pulled him a few feet away from his family. 

"I'm sorry you had to come back for a reason like this but I'm glad you made it." 

"Yeah, me too. On both counts," Ray answered, meaning it. 

"What are you doing after the service?" 

"Michael and Kelly asked me to come over. I guess there's some people meeting at their house." 

"Who's Kelly?" 

"Oh, damn, I can't get her name right. Sharon. Michael and Sharon." 

Joe just grinned at him and Ray saw that grin as it carried him through a thousand different memories. 

"Look, why don't you come out with me? We'll go get a beer at the Tops. We can walk from here and shake off all this. If you get loaded, I'll drive you back to Michael's." 

"I'm staying at the Hilton." 

"Then I'll drive you there. Anywhere you want. I don't drink anymore so you're safe with me." 

Ray looked at him and saw the story behind that admission. He always knew that Joe drank too much and too often. But they were so young back then. And partying was all there was to do. 

"You sure you wanna go to a bar?" 

"Yeah, no problem. You can't sell real estate around here without schmoozing the clients at a bar. Just meet me down by the bushes. You know where?" 

"Yeah, I remember." 

Ray couldn't help grinning as he remembered the two of them hiding behind the bushes that grew near the church wall, hidden from the adults who would pass by and eavesdropping on their talk. They never heard anything damaging or interesting. No plots to take over the world, no imminent divorces, no admissions that either of them was really adopted. It was just plain, small town talk but the thrill of listening, of maybe getting caught, still filled him. 

Joe hugged him impulsively again before he went inside. Ray watched him go; surprised he had forgotten how much of a toucher Joe was, even when they were kids. 

Michael waved at him from a few feet away. 

"Are you ready to go in?" Michael asked when Ray joined him. 

"Yeah, let's go." 

The musty smell from the cement structure, the porcelain statues and the wooden seats, the huge columns, the wood gracing the ceiling, the great wooden cross at the alter all combined and Ray had to catch his breath. 

How many Sundays had he sat there with his grandfather, fidgeting and waiting for Father Hogan to release them? 

Already placed was the fancy wooden casket overflowing with white flowers and surrounded by tall candles. Ray took another breath as he took his place beside his brother. Michael squeezed his shoulder and met his eyes squarely. Ray nodded and they sat down. 

The seats were mostly full and the murmuring filled the echoing church with comforting sounds. Ray absorbed it all, nostalgia and grief mixing together as a stranger flanked by more strangers entered the room and everyone stood as the organ played from some cavern near the top of the church. 

Father Matthews didn't waste time as he set about the nighttime service. He performed the right passages, the proper phrases, the expected words meant to comfort the grieving and dispatch the soul. But Ray couldn't hear him over the rushing air in his brain. 

Finally he heard his name and Michael squeezed his shoulder again and Kel...Sharon hugged him as he passed. Ray reached into his pocket for a folded piece of paper as he approached the podium. Father Matthews shook his hand and moved to sit a few feet away. 

Ray didn't look out at the crowd or at the casket sitting so close to him. He stared at his piece of paper and hoped the words would stop spinning. He took a couple more breaths and cleared his throat and began, wincing when the first word produced a whine at the microphone. 

"My, uh, my partner in Chicago helped me write this. I kind of wish he were here to read it." 

A few soft chuckles greeted him and Ray continued. 

"I can't read this so I'm just gonna talk if that's okay." 

He took the silence for permission. 

"Michael Damien Kowalski is my grandfather. He lived in Corning for most of his life. He raised his sons here, he worked at the glass plant until he couldn't anymore, he retired here and now he's died here. That's the facts. But, uh, you know all that. 

"Everybody who knew him knew he was rude and gruff and hard to talk to. But you also know he helped find that little girl that got lost like thirty winters ago. And he helped pack church boxes and deliver them all year long, not just at the holidays. And he loved his family more than himself. 

"Mike didn't like to be called Grandpa because it made him feel old. But he did like to go to the high school football games. We used to pick a school and then spend the season sitting in the stands rooting them on like they were our favorites. And for one year, they would be. The next year it was a different school. 

"He hated cooking. After his wife, our grandmother died, he never bought anything that couldn't be a sandwich or just stuck in the oven. Sometimes I'd cook for him and we'd eat together at his little two chair table and look out into the back yard just to watch the birds bother his flowers. 

"He loved his yard and his garden. He tended it all spring and summer. I didn't like it but he'd make me pull weeds and cut the grass. One time I was complaining that he didn't even pay me for it and he didn't speak to me for a week. When I finally apologized he said that family was more important than money and I should always do for my family." 

Ray heard his voice break and felt the tears start to threaten again. He stopped to breathe and heard the sniffles of others. 

"Mike used to get up early to light the gas stove and open up the oven door so the kitchen would be warm while I got ready for school. He had heat but he didn't like to use it. He never paid for a Christmas present because he liked to make stuff instead. And he was always the first one awake on Christmas morning. My parents and brother would drive up for the holidays and Mike would always send me in to wake my dad even though he knew I'd get yelled at for it. 

"Ya know, I haven't spent a Christmas with him since I got married but I still half expect him to wake me up." 

He looked up for the first time and smiled despite the pain in his throat. He saw Joe standing with Margie and they were both smiling back even if Margie's mascara was running. He looked back at his piece of paper and read the last few lines. 

"Mike took care of what needed doing. And he never looked for anything that he couldn't find in his own house. He could be a hard man but he taught me more about family, about what it takes to be a real person than anyone I've ever known." 

Ray folded up the piece of paper with the speech he prepared but barely used and stuck it in his pocket. He re-joined his brother and didn't hear another word of the service. 

Outside the church, long ago acquaintances paid their respects and Ray endured all of their warmth, wishing that he could disappear back to Mike's house and the safety he felt there. There was no funeral procession to the cemetery. The ground was too frozen for a burial and nobody saw the need to freeze out in the open for a graveside service that Mike wouldn't have cared about anyway. 

When the condolences were finally over, Kelly...Sharon hugged him and invited him for breakfast in the morning. Michael held the baby and told him to stay out of trouble. Michael took a few steps away before he stopped and handed Barbie to Sharon. He walked back over to Ray. 

"Forget something?" Ray asked. 

"No, I, uh, I just didn't know if you knew that, uh, well, Dad always regretted sending you away." 

"No choice. Our fighting was ripping the family up." 

"I know. I, uh, just didn't know if you knew how he felt about it. You were a damn stubborn kid." 

"I haven't changed that much," Ray said, teasing, but appreciating Michael's effort. 

Michael laughed and cuffed him lightly on the back of the head, making Ray laugh with him. "No, you haven't. Go have fun. I'll see you before you leave tomorrow." 

Michael went back to his wife, scooped the baby from her and the three of them walked out to the parking lot waving and chatting with their neighbors as they went. With a few different choices, Ray knew that could've been him. A small part of him wished it had been. 

He was startled when Joe Adams and Margie Blodgett met him at the bush. 

"Let's get out of the cold," Joe said and the three of them started the two-block walk to The Tops. 

They didn't speak much on the walk over as the three of them buried themselves inside their winter coats and scarves and hats and tried to keep the cutting wind off their skin. 

They all sighed at the warmth inside the empty bar. Ray and Margie chose a booth while Joe ordered their drinks. Ray started stripping out of his winter clothes while Margie hung everything on a nearby coat rack. 

Joe set one beer and two coffees down on the table before he got out of his over coat. Finally they were settled down, huddling into the warmth and sipping at their drinks. 

"You did a good job on the eulogy," Joe said. "Mike was great man." 

"When he wasn't chewing everybody to shreds," Ray said and the three of them laughed. 

"So, you still live in Chicago?" Margie asked. 

"Yeah," Ray answered. 

"I never could believe you became a cop. I mean the bank thing was like twenty-five years ago." Joe said. 

"What bank thing?" 

Ray just laughed and shook his head. "No, no, no, we're not going there. You can tell her later. They were the first ones to call after I dropped out of college which just proved that destiny was pushing me along." 

"Destiny, huh? You like it?" Joe asked. 

"Yeah, I do. I have a good partner. A pretty good gig right now as far as the work goes. I get along with the lieutenant. What's not to like?" 

"The criminals?" Margie ventured. 

"I get to be mean to them." He grinned at his answer. 

"What's your partner like?" She asked. 

"He's Canadian." 

"Oh," they both answered simultaneously as if that explained everything. 

"Do you ever see Stella?" Margie asked. 

"A lot more than she'd like." He laughed so Margie wouldn't take him too seriously. "She's the Assistant State's Attorney for my district. She works a lot of our cases." 

"But you don't get along?" 

"I get along fine. She just doesn't like me anymore." 

Ray was leaning forward and Margie reached across the table and squeezed his arm. 

Ray looked away from her to watch the snow fall outside the picture window. He didn't miss Stella every day the way he used to but sometimes the pain would come back in a rush to remind him of what he didn't have anymore. 

"My ex isn't real fond of me either," Joe said. 

"I didn't know you and May broke up," Ray looked at his friend, selfishly grateful to have the subject changed. 

"About six months ago she left me for some guy she met at her Al-Anon meetings. His wife, the alcoholic, killed herself with the booze a couple years ago. Anyway, May and him can't have sex for a year because their sponsors won't let them. They're not even supposed to be dating until she's been rid of me for a year, but it's funny how I'm not finding a lot of comfort in all that." 

"Jeez, Joe, I'm sorry," he said sympathetically. 

"I get by. My daughter, Helen, is a great girl. She's a junior and she's already applying to colleges. I stay focused on her and try not to let May get me too crazy." 

"May blew it," Margie said with a smile. Joe smiled back and Ray suddenly understood why Margie rated an invitation to their night out. 

"What about you, Ray, are you seeing anyone?" Margie asked. 

"Not right now but you never know. I got my eye on somebody. We'll have to see what happens." 

"What's she like?" 

"Tall, dark hair, gray eyes. Smart, honest. We're good friends, it may get to be more." 

"But she didn't come with you for the service?" 

"Wanted to but I said no. There's enough to deal with here, with Michael and the new wife and baby and the funeral and all." 

The three of them went quiet for a few moments as they watched the snow and sipped their drinks. 

Ray had spent a lot of nights in this bar while he was in college. It was before they raised the age limit on drinking and he and some buddies would drive up, grab Joe and party from Friday to Sunday. He wasn't quiet then. There was always a gang of people around him, making noise, getting drunk. Joe and him would stay close to each other, always ready for the infrequent fight or the hassle from the local cops. 

"Jimmy Dexter is running for mayor," Joe said, breaking the silence. 

"That weasel? Figures he'd go into politics." 

"He's a lawyer too, just like his dad." 

"He was a creepy kid." 

"Oh, he wasn't that bad," Margie said, laughing with them. 

"What about Handley Cross, whatever happened to him?" Ray asked. 

"Killed himself," Joe answered. "It had to be five or six years ago." 

"At least," Margie said. 

"Put a gun in his mouth in the shed behind his parent's house." 

"Christ," Ray said. "Anybody know why?" 

"They said he was depressed." 

"Well, obviously." 

Another silence filled with flashes of memory featuring one skinny kid who dreamed of being a journalist when he was in high school. 

"I need another coffee," Margie said. 

Joe started to get up but Ray stopped him. He went up to the bar, ordered two more coffees and a beer. He went to the bathroom while the bartender poured and paid when he came back. 

"Michael's wife seems nice," Margie said after he sat back down. 

"She is. And they seem happy enough. The baby was planned and they want another one in a couple years." 

"Is she gonna work?" 

"I don't know. He wants her to stay home so they can raise Barbie like an old-fashioned family." 

"Well it worked for your parents." 

"More or less, I guess. Mike had a lot to do with that." 

"So you and your dad are talking again, huh?" Joe watched him carefully when he asked, clearly not sure if he was bringing up a bad topic. 

Ray just gave him a look to let him know it was okay. "He and mom moved to Chicago a few months ago. Dad decided it was time to be a family again." 

"A few months? But, Ray, you guys fell out..." 

"I know, I know. The old man can hold a grudge. I'm just glad he did it before Mike..." Ray stopped, surprised by the sudden crack in his voice. He swallowed hard, finding escape in the snow blowing across the streetlights. 

"Yeah, I'll bet," Joe added quickly, covering for him in the silence. 

"Mike loved you, Ray," Margie said. "My mom used to visit him every week and he talked about you all the time." 

Ray felt the emotion ease back and gave her a grateful smile. He hadn't seen Mike in a couple of years and he wasn't sure his weekly phone calls were enough. It was nice to know that Mike still thought of him in a good way. 

"I'm hungry," Joe announced. "Let's head over to Denny's" 

"We can't walk to Denny's," Margie said. 

"We'll walk back to the church and pick up my car." 

"Is that Pizza Hut still down the block?" Ray asked. 

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go there," Margie said. 

Joe threw a five on the table and the three of them bundled back up to walk down to the Pizza Hut. 

Ray ordered another beer, Joe and Margie ordered more coffee and they decided to split a pepperoni and sausage pizza and an order of garlic bread. 

"I'm going to get kicked right out of Weight Watcher's," Margie said. 

"You look really good, Margie, is that how you did it?" Ray asked. 

"About every three years, actually. I get skinny, I maintain for three years, then I spend a year gaining and it's back to the meetings." 

Ray laughed at that while Joe squeezed her hand. "I like you no matter what," he said. She giggled and Ray could see her in high school staring at them shyly from across the lunchroom. He had always thought she had a crush on him but maybe it was Joe even then. 

He was surprised by the envy he felt at seeing them. Ray would bet they hadn't gone past flirting but both were obviously working towards something more. He wished he had the courage to do the same thing. 

"Remember when we all took Russian Studies?" Margie asked. 

"Mr. Hudson. He was a good teacher," Ray said. 

"We thought we were such rebels. It was the middle of the Cold War and all." She laughed. 

"I just wanted to get out of Political Science. I thought Russian Studies would be easier," Ray said. 

"It wasn't," Joe said. 

"No, but it was more fun." 

"I miss it all sometimes," Margie said. "The Friday night football games and the pep assemblies and the snowball fights after school. God, we were on fire back then." 

"Yeah. Holding hands with Stella and knowing my future when I looked at her. We were gonna stay together forever and we were gonna change the world. One time we were sitting around Mike's kitchen, remember this Joe? And Mike said that he'd lay money that none of us would be what we expected to be and we thought he was full of crap." 

"I remember. I was going to be an architect." 

"I was gonna be a lawyer like Stella." 

"I was going to be an elementary school teacher and move to Arizona and volunteer to teach on the reservations." 

They grinned at each other, one real estate agent, one detective and one apartment manager. 

"Stella got her dream," Joe said. 

"Almost. She wanted to be a defense attorney like Perry Mason. She's a prosecutor instead. She couldn't stand to let the bad guys get away." 

They accepted the pizza and bread from the waitress. All three of them ordered coffee and they divvied up the food. 

"Hey, I like my life," Margie said. "I like my job, I like my neighbors. Living near my mother and sisters is right where I should be. It's a good life." 

"I'm happy enough, I guess," Joe said. "The job doesn't mean anything but I'm good at it. Helen is a joy. May probably had the right idea about breaking us up." 

Margie stared into her pizza, frozen suddenly, and Ray knew she was waiting for Joe to include her in his list of good things. He didn't but he gave her a quick hug around her shoulders. Ray pretended not to notice. 

"When I lay my life all out, I think I'm okay. Stella leaving me sucked. The whole separation thing from my family sucked too, but maybe that's getting better. I don't know if I'm happy yet, but I'm getting there and that has to count for something, right?" 

"And this woman you like?" Margie asked. 

"Time will tell." 

The three of them ate and reminisced together for a long time. Since Ray didn't feel or act drunk, Joe dropped him off at his rented truck. He hugged Margie, he hugged Joe and they all promised to keep in touch though Ray knew it wouldn't happen. 

Ray watched Joe walk Margie to her car and close her in before heading to his own vehicle. He waited until they were both safely inside and Joe's headlights glared across the parking lot. 

Ray took a last look at the church and his throat closed. He coughed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Good-bye, Mike. Thanks for everything." 

He drove back to his hotel slowly, taking his time to see the city that he spent his last three years of high school in, noting the changes and the things that never changed. He felt the melancholy sweep through him with the passing of each neighborhood, with the glimpses of schools, with the passing of a playing field. 

Then, finally feeling tired, he went back to the hotel and took the elevator to his room. He unlocked the door, swept the room with his eyes to make certain there were no intruders and sat on the edge of the bed. The phone was in his hand before he planned to make the call. 

"Detective Vecchio's residence," a sleepy voice answered. 

"It's me, Fraser." 

"Oh, hello," Fraser said. 

Ray heard the click of the nightstand light and the rustling of clothes and sheets. 

"I'm sorry to call so late. I don't even know what time it is but I think it's late." He looked at the clock on the bed table. "Oh, jeez, it's after one, I'm sorry." 

"It's quite all right, Ray. Diefenbaker was snoring rather loudly so I wasn't sleeping well anyway." 

"Put him in the living room and shut the door." 

"I'll consider that but I'm not certain it would be worth the snit he'd be in for the next few days." 

Ray smiled at that but the expression wouldn't stay. 

"I, uh, I just got back to the hotel. I went out with a couple friends from school after the funeral." 

Fraser didn't speak but Ray could feel him listening in that intense way that he listened to everyone. 

"The service was okay. I didn't use our speech. I'm sorry I made you work on it with me." 

"What did you do instead?" 

"I told stories. Just all these dumb things that made Mike what he was." 

"It sounds most appropriate." 

"I guess so. I really miss him, Fraser." 

Ray lied back on the bed, clinging tightly to the phone. He couldn't speak for a moment. He tried clearing his throat but couldn't quite get around the lump. He just kept gripping the phone and listening to the silence. 

"You'll be home tomorrow night, Ray. I'll be there to pick you up at the car rental agency." 

"I know," he said, hoarsely, then let another silence pass as he put his thoughts in order. He could hear Fraser's breath over the phone as he waited patiently for him. 

"Thanks for staying there, for taking care of the turtle." 

Fraser still didn't speak and Ray was grateful for the extra time 

"Did I, uh, ever tell you why I ended up living with Mike?" 

"You said you were having difficulties with your father." 

"I said we were fighting non-stop, Fraser. It was weird cuz we were working on the GTO too. We'd spend all this time in the garage together and then we'd get outside and the fight was on. I was fifteen and staying out all night, doing stupid teenager stuff and one morning I let myself in and there was my dad waiting for me. It was like six in the morning and he was so mad. I wouldn't back down to him though, just kept mouthing off until, finally, he just hauled off and belted me one. 

"I can still see his face, Fraser. He was stunned. I guess we both were. And he just walked away from me. The next day, my stuff was packed and I was on the train to Corning." 

"What was it like, moving so far from home?" 

"Hard at first. Mike picked me up at the station. He said I was too smart to be such a jackass and then he didn't talk to me again until we got home. He showed me my room and gave me a list of rules. Said I could follow them or I could live on the street like a bum. I gotta tell you, it was hard not to just walk out." 

"But you didn't." 

"No. I knew Mike was a hardass. I figured I could be harder. He was only in his fifties but I thought he was ancient." 

Fraser laughed softly in Ray's ear. 

"He wouldn't fight with me. He'd just walk away as soon as I raised my voice. Told me he'd listen when I could use a proper tone." Ray smiled as he heard Mike's voice in his head. He sighed. "It took a while but I finally figured out that if I talked to him, then he'd talk to me. It was better after that. It wasn't Beaver Cleaver but it was better." 

Ray stopped talking as he felt his throat tighten again. He took deep gulps of air, trying to keep his sorrow inside. 

"What can I do for you?" Fraser asked. 

"Take care of the turtle." Ray's voice was soft and scratchy. 

"I'm doing that." 

"I know." He took in some more air. "I...look, Fraser, can you...I mean, I need some time...your time. Can you maybe be free tomorrow night after you get me? Can you spend some time with me?" 

"Of course, Ray." 

"There's some stuff I need to tell you. I know Mike was old and everything but you never know what might happen, right? I don't want to wait until it's too late. So, I need to talk to you...to tell you some things." 

"You can tell me anything." 

Ray hoped that was true. 

"I should go," he said. 

"I could rent a car now. It would take all night to get there but..." 

"No, no, don't do that. I'm having breakfast with Michael and Kelly and then I'll drive home. We can talk then. Besides, I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you were on the road." 

"We could just talk now if you want. Or you could talk. I can listen to you until you're ready to sleep." 

"I appreciate it Fraser, but I think I'm ready now. Don't worry, I'm just tired. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow." 

"All right, but if you want to call back, I'll be here all night." 

"Thanks, Fraser. Good night." 

He listened to Fraser say the same thing and then Ray sat up and put the receiver down. He lied back again folding his hands over his chest. 

"Tomorrow," he said quietly before he forced himself up in order to strip out his suit and get between the warm blankets. 

* * *

End Second Home by Elizabeth Mc:

Author and story notes above.


End file.
